


The Road to Redemption

by CrystalRavenClaw



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Eventual Redemption, F/F, F/M, Female and male friendship, How do I tag?, Just Guys Being Dude, SEASON 3 SPOILERS!!!, Self Harm, Slow Burn, just dudes being guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalRavenClaw/pseuds/CrystalRavenClaw
Summary: When he saw Alya yelling at Marinette he froze. Marinette was jealous, right? She had to be, but for some reason it seemed off...He loved Superheroes, and Marinette was his very own superhero, but he was just a footnote in her story. He wanted to be her hero too, but when the time came, he hesitated for a second to long, and missed his chance, or did he?She hated everything about herself. Marinette was everything she wanted to be. When the time came, and the young designer need help she would be there. Even if she couldn’t do more then offer a hug.AKA: When 3 of Marinette’s classmates don’t fall for Lila’s lies! A story of heartbreak, healing, and forgiveness. Redemption is the easy part trust is a hard one. (Eventually Adriette and Chloe/Nathaniel)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Chloé Bourgeois/Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant
Comments: 5
Kudos: 126





	The Road to Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> Hello peeps!!! This is my first time writing for this site so be nice I guess! Constructive criticism is always welcomed. Not Beta-ed, so sorry for grammar mistakes! Enjoy!!!!

Marinette was yelling at Alya. She was yelling at Alya because Alya moved her to the back. Nino was confused. 

Because Marinette doesn’t yell. She was all soft and sweet, she could be petty and hold grudges, but she never yelled. Nino asked her why once, before going to high school, before they were really friends. She had responded that people don’t listen to what a person is saying, but listen to their tone. 

Hence his confusion. 

His train of thought was disturbed as Alya shouted back, “Why are you being so selfish! She has a hearing disability! You don’t! You are just upset that she is sitting by Adrien! I thought you were better than this. It thought you were kind and strong, but it turns out you’re just as bad as Chloe. Petty, horrible, liar, and green-eyed!” 

The class was quiet for a second, as Marinette’s jaw dropped at her best friend. Lila jumped to her rescue though, “It’s ok Alya if she wants to sit here she can, I’ll go sit in the back. It’s not that big of a deal, I’ll be fine. I promise.” Lila looked at the back seat with big glassy eyes, before turning back to give a heart-wrenching smile with a self-deprecating laugh. 

Nino blinked because as a kid who grows up with a mom as a psychologist, he knew the signs of manipulation, knew what peer pressor looked like, and all the signs were here. If Marinette said anything against sitting in the back, she would look bad, not just bad, she would look jealous. 

Nino knew what Marinette looked like jealous too, and it was not this. If, and it’s looking more and more like an if, at this point, Marinette was jealous that Lila was sitting next to Adrien, she would have just given him a really dejected look and walk away to worry about, cry about later. She would have seethed silently, waiting to serve her revenge cold. 

Marinette was very good at revenge. She’s like a poisonous snake waiting for her prey, curled up waiting for the prey to come to her. If Alya was right, then Marinette changed her way with revenge. Right now, she was burning hot, trying to bite prey too fast, too far ahead for her. 

The teacher walked into the room as the class shouted at Marinette to get over herself and sit in the back. Needless to say, the blue-haired girl walked back and sat down.

Nino wanted to say something, wanted to confront the girl on what was wrong, but it was like he was frozen. 

He didn’t know if he could unfreeze. 

Nathaniel loved superheroes much like Alya.

No that’s not true.

Nathaniel loved the idea of superheroes. He loved the idea of someone, some human, some person to put aside their own agenda, and selflessly help others at their own loss. Now he loved drawing them even more. Loved how his pencil would scape against the paper, how his hand would feel as the strokes got deeper and more concentrated. His favorite concept though was the idea that the hero notices the plain old civilian and falls in love with them. How they teach each other to be better. 

Marinette was his hero for a long time.

But she didn’t fall in love with him, didn’t notice him, didn’t want to even be near him. He thinks he freaked her out with his akumanization. Which is fair. Heck, when he heard what he did he wanted to jump into the Seline too! 

She didn’t fall in love with him, and that was ok. He had nothing to teach her. It would have been an unbalanced relationship. She was the hero, and he was the civilian that got in the way of the fight they call life. 

So slowly he started moving on. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t fun, and it wasn’t perfect. There were nights where he picked up his paintbrush, wanting more than anything to draw her pigtails and her smile, but had to stop himself. He would put down the brush and sometimes not pick it up again until hours later when inspiration hit. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t fun, and it wasn’t perfect. Sometimes on those nights, all he can think about is how and why she didn’t choose him. Was he not good enough? Was he not good looking? Was he too boring? Too shy? Did she find him creepy for drawing her? Those nights, he would paint on his own skin, watching as it dried before peeling it off, watching as the skin underneath became red and irritated. He wasn’t perfect. He knew that, accepted it. But when he painted on the skin, he did it the way he wanted. He looked like he wanted too. When he peeled it off, he felt in control. 

It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t fun, it wasn’t perfect getting over Marinette. 

But he wasn’t talking about Marinette anymore was he? Marinette was his hero. She made him better. Made him realize that he drew because it meant that he was in control. She made him realize that the people in his life were toxic. She made him realize that sometimes you put people on pedestals, not able to see their faults because sometimes those faults were also your own.  
He liked Marinette because she was honest. It wasn’t easy, but he realized he liked that about her because his father was a compulsive liar. His dad would tell him he got the job, but instead just took another lady out again with their limited funds.  
He liked Marinette because she knew when to speak up and when to be silent and supportive. It wasn’t fun when he realized his friends from elementary school thought he was a drag. They found him boring. Sometimes Nathaniel agreed, but that’s not the point. The point was no one said otherwise, no one stopped them, and no one asked if he was ok. 

He liked Marinette because she didn’t like to brag. It wasn’t perfect in any way when he realized his mother didn’t love him, in fact it was very messy. She would tell him this every day, looking him straight in the eyes. His mother only talked about herself, shouting at him over the TV to tell him that. She would go on and on, her voice swimming in his head as she told him he was bland and that no one wanted to talk to him. She would talk about how she got all these awards for her art at school, how she had all these connections, how she was beautiful and successful, unlike her husband and child. 

Nathaniel liked superheroes.  
Nathaniel liked Marinette.  
Nathaniel didn’t like his family.  
Nathaniel didn’t like himself.

That’s alright though because it wasn’t abusive. He didn’t get hit by his father who didn’t come home at night, he didn’t get slapped by his mother who drank the house dry most nights, he didn’t cut himself. It’s alright because what happens to him leaves no marks. He liked Marinette because she showed her scars, she showed who she really was with no regret and no hesitation. She helped people even if it hurt her. She gave him a fancy notebook for his drawings with the money she was saving for a design because of his other friends forgot. 

He just has a love for things that hurt.  
He loves how a pencil presses against his thumb and index finger, how after long hours his hand numbs, with only sharp spikes of pain when he stretched it. 

Superheroes saved people. Marinette saved him. He never wanted to be saved though. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t fun, and it wasn’t perfect, but it was his life, his family, his crush. 

He always got over these things though. 

As an artist, he liked taking one point of view and objectifying it through a different lens. It made him less boring. At least he hoped. So when Alya, Lila, and Marinette got in a fight, he watched the one no one was paying attention too. Lila. She only drew attention to herself before redirecting it again, like a game of hot potato no one else knew they were playing. As the other two girls were yelling at each other, she was looking at the ground, and to a glancing eye, it seemed she was going to cry, but if a person looked they would see the curl to her lip, the spark in her eye, the twitch in her ear. 

She was trying not to laugh. 

Nathaniel felt his stomach roll, the contents of his stomach wanting to get out of the boiling acid that lined the inside of his organ. He liked Marinette, and right now, she had no one on her side.  
Maybe he should be that person.

Maybe for once, he should be the hero in her story and not the creepy villain in the background.

Juleka stuttered, shook, and shattered all at once. The yelling from the three girls made her want to tear her hair out. 

But she couldn’t stop them.  
She never could. She couldn’t even stop herself. 

She started rocking in her chair as she bit her nails. Usually Rose would stop her, but she was watching Alya, Lila, and Marinette.  
She just kept rocking back and forth. It was comforting, as was biting her nails. She couldn’t scratch herself if she had no nails to scratch herself with.

“G-guys.” She tried.  
No one heard her.

“H-hey!” Her voice cracked.  
No one heard her.

She opened her mouth, expecting the words to come to her once more, but none came. Even if they did, no one would listen. They never did. 

Sticks and stones-

Her breathing got heavier as the fight continued, her skin dripping with cold sweat even though she was burning just under the surface. 

May break my bones-

Her arm reached for the back of her head where she started tugging. She knew what was happening. She also knew what would happen if she didn’t stop. Would it be so bad if she never stopped? Or if she simply stopped forever? 

But Words-

They stopped yelling.  
The room was silent. 

Why were there still voices? Her throat burned with the words unsaid, the words she so wanted to say, that were caught like an ant in a spider’s web.  
Her Akuma was just the same as everyone else. A little black butterfly under the control of a crazy man called HawkMoth. She was “purified” by Ladybug and her partner Chat Noir. She is in Freshman year in Collège Françoise Dupont. She is 15 years old. Her birthday is on December 7, 2004. Her brother is Luka. She is normal. Her Akuma is normal. There is nothing strange or weird about her.

Will never hurt me…

She is Juleka Couffaine. She is Reflekta. That will never change. Those words will never change. Nothing about her will ever change. She is normal. She is real. She is here. 

Isn’t she?

Marinette sits down in her seat, Lila gets her way, and Alya made a mistake. These things happen. What doesn’t happen is Juleka looking in a mirror, never seen, never heard. What doesn’t happen is Juleka turning into a reflector, where no one can see what’s on the other side, but just themself; just what she wants them to see. 

Juleka is normal. She is not strange. She is not weird. She is real. She exists. She is important.  
She is lying to herself.

The teacher is talking, but her words just swim through Juleka’s ears. They bounce off of them. They have reflected away from her. 

Juleka is a reflector. Never seen, never heard. No one knows she’s there. If they do, they find her strange, with no presence. She is ostracized. She is normal. Let her be normal! NORMAL, NORMAL, NORMAL! 

Juleka hates not being seen, not being heard; and as her eyes drift to Marinette, a girl as sweet as candy, as shy as a mouse, as loud as a lion, as quiet as a bird. Marinette was everything Juleka wishes she was. Marinette was pretty, Marinette was outgoing, Marinette was good with words, Marinette was popular, Marinette didn’t have trouble talking when she got stressed. Marinette was seen and heard. 

But not right now. She was labeled a liar. Juleka had seen how she open and closed her mouth as though she wanted to speak, but the words were trapped. She didn’t have the right words to defend herself right now, so Juleka would have them for her because she always wanted someone to do that for her. 

So when the bell rang, dismissing the students, Juleka followed the class president to her home.  
It wasn’t hard to get to the bakery without being stopped, as her parents wouldn’t even notice she was gone and Marinette was to upset to regard her.  
Juleka gave her a second to get to her bedroom, before walking into the warm bakery. The smell hit her instantly, and it surprised her. Juleka hated surprises. It makes her itch and rock, and that makes her look like a moron and immature.  
“Welcome to Tom and Sabine’s Bakery, how can we help you, young lady?” A tall burly man clapped his hands together. 

This must be Marinette’s dad. 

Juleka still couldn’t speak, but this happened a lot these days, so she just pointed up to the ladder with a trapdoor over it with a small smile on her face, hoping that he just reflects the smile back at her. 

He does.  
She doesn’t know how she feels about it. 

When she opened the door, she knocked on the floor to let the blue-haired girl she was here.  
It didn’t stop Marinette from jumping five feet into the air. “Juleka? What are you doing here? Do you need anything?” The girl turned around, revealing her red-rimmed eyes, and her friendly cracking smile. 

Juleka pulled herself up, and onto the carpeted floor, before standing on shaking rocking legs. She opened her mouth…

But words never hurt me…  
Nothing. 

So she tried again. And again. One more time, surely. Her fingers started to drift to the back of her head again, her breathing picking up, her eyes glazing over. 

And then she felt arms around her waist.  
Marinette was hugging her. Juleka has only been hug by Rose, and only for a second. Does she hug her back? Does she push her away? How long does she hug her for? 

“Juleka,” Marinette croaks, “thank you for coming.”  
Juleka can only hum and pull her closer. She hopes it helps. Its all she can do. 

Since when is the best she can do enough?

-But words will never hurt me…

They stay like that for a long time.

Marinette was really tired. Well, she is always tired now that she’s Ladybug, but it’s a different kind of tired. This tired sinks into her bones, eats at her veins, and zaps her muscles of their kinetic energy. She’s tired. 

Tikki is worried about her when she walks into the school, and even more so when Marinette becomes catatonic. 

She didn’t think she could be more drained than she already was! It was kind of funny. The thought makes her laugh as her eyes roam shut. 

The back of the room gave her a whole different perspective of the classroom. It makes her sad and nostalgic even though she is in the same area. It was like she rearranged her bedroom and now she couldn’t sleep. The walls didn’t look right, her body felt disproportioned, and the ceiling was to close to her head like if she stood up, her skull would scrape against it. She knew it wasn’t true, just like how a bedroom doesn’t change when rearranged. 

...  
She was alone.  
Funny how things changed so quickly.

She wasn’t even upset at this point. Anger had no part in what just transpired. She was confused, hurt, and disappointed, yet apathetic to what happened where it mattered most. Her heart hurt, her head hurt, and her eyes were pounding.  
She always knew this was going to happen. It simply was too good to be true. A best friend? She has never had one before, and there is a good reason for that. She’s plain, old, boring Marinette. Not even being Ladybug changed that.  
Ladybug relied on facts and logic. If she miscalculated, Chat Noir was there to catch her. Marinette miscalculated more but didn’t have someone in her counter, or she thought she did, but obviously not right! Isn’t that funny!  
Facts were no one liked Marinette, facts were her best friend didn’t believe her word over someone who she just met, facts were she now had a friend count of 0. Well, there was Tikki, but she was more of Ladybug’s friend. 

The isolation was suffocating, it was draining, it was hungry. It wanted something Marinette didn’t have, so it took all of her other positions to make up for it.

The isolation was drowning. No matter how much she struggled she couldn’t reach the surface, she kicked and flailed and screeched, but the figures at the top of the water made no move to help. 

The isolation was burning. Buring her energy, her friends, her motivation, her creativity. Maybe she was made to burn. Maybe her body was gasoline made to fuel a much bigger fire. Maybe for once in her life, she was doing something useful. Burning wouldn’t be so bad if it was to help others. 

The bell rang and she left one jail only to find a penitentiary. Her house was wonderful, with loving parents that knew all her friends and who wanted them to come over. 

She hates liars, but she was already something she hated.

She made sure to smile at her Mama and Papa. She said love you and stood straight as she went to her room. She could feel the cracks coming, tearing at her. 

Give, give, give. Unattractive, radioactive, inactive.

She was fine. She was okay. Nothing bad had happened to her. Her legs gave out from underneath her, as Tikki slipped out from her purse to tap her head. 

“Oh Marinette, it’s not your fault.”  
The two sat like that for a few seconds before there was a tap by her trapdoor.


End file.
